


Fade

by kabeswaters



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Drunk Reader, Drunk confessions, Explicit Language, F/M, Requested, muggle bar AU, they are so confused
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-24 17:31:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17105018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kabeswaters/pseuds/kabeswaters
Summary: Ever since Sirius began dating Marlene, you noticed yourself having feelings for your best friend that crossed into a similar romantic territory.  After a night out and more than a few drinks, you accidentally spill your secrets to Sirius but realize soon after he may have been waiting for such a confession.





	Fade

Though your dress was tight in all the ways Muggle magazines said it should be, your makeup done immaculately, your veins coursing with liquor, you sat at the side of the club instead of dancing on its floor, in a sulk as deep as the pound of the dance music which surrounded you. And obviously sulking, too, with pursed lips and a forehead etched with frown lines. Sulking at Sirius, whose long fingers were being interlaced with Marlene’s, staring deep into her eyes as if trying to drown her with them. It was disturbing and uncomfortable and the car crash of all conversations: you couldn’t look away from it, regardless of the effort put forth. Even as you lifted your third—or maybe fourth or fifth or sixth—vodka cranberry, stirring it as methodically as possible with shaking hands, and spoke to James.

“How could he ditch me?” you half-whined, half-slurred, fully drunk. “We’re best friends but he picks Marlene over me.”

Out of nowhere James wrapped his hand against your glass, steadying it in your violently gesturing hands, which you hadn’t realized made the liquid threaten to spill multiple times. “Okay, listen,” he responded quietly and sternly. It shouldn’t have been able to be heard under the wild sounds of the club. “I know you’re upset about this, but Marlene is his girlfriend, alright? And you know that. Just try to distract yourself.” You rolled your eyes at him dramatically. “Hey, at least it’s not like me with Evans. She won’t go out with ne but sure as hell doesn’t seem like she’s holding off for anyone else.” With reluctance but empathy, you pulled your eyes off of Sirius to sweep the room for Lily, who, once discovered, was in a similar situation to Sirius. 

“It’s unfair!” you screamed, ripping your glass from James’ hand and slamming it on the table you sat around dramatically. “Why can’t things just, just… ya know, work?”

James shook his head while lowering his bottle from his lips. He reeked of cheap beer sold at expensive prices but you doubted you smelled much better. If anything, your aroma was probably worse: James was only on his second drink. “I don’t know. But I do know I just want to punch that bloke. Like what makes him think he has the right? Touching Lily with his greasy hands. He probably ate some nachos.”

“Maybe he ate some of those chip things! You know, with the cheese and all. They’re at the bar.” You gestured towards the liquor bottle lined wall flimsily. James’ laughter—why he found that funny was beyond you— was cut off quickly by the pressing of his lips to his beer bottle once more. 

He exhaled after the drink, before warning, “Hey, I think Sirius is coming over,” as if knowing though you were already looking at Sirius, but could barely recognize the apologetic smile he wore or the gesturing of his thumb towards where you and James sat or that his actions meant he was preparing to walk away from his conversation shortly. You watched the shape of him approach, almost more shadow than skeleton, ridiculously indistinct from both your intoxication and the swirling neon lights of the club shadowing his features in randomized patterns.

“Sirius!” you screamed, almost falling into him when he was close enough to catch you; or, at least when you thought he was close enough, since, in truth, he had to scramble forwards to catch you and your miracuously-not-spilled vodka cranberry from falling off the stool. The touch felt lukewarm against your burning skin.

His eyebrows were knit together, lips frowning, voice much sturdier than expected. “Are you drunk?” he asked. Your hands were on the lapels of his leather jacket, steadying yourself and you could have kissed him right then, your pulse heavier than the beat of the music. Get him drunk on just the alcohol in your breath alone. 

But instead you answered, “No! I’m Y/N!” while laughing, head falling back and hands taking Sirius along for the ride.

“Whoah, whoah,” he said, making sure you didn’t fall backwards—and that he didn’t follow—again whilst you and James laughed ridiculously. “Guys, please settle down. Y/N. Hey, Y/N.” You could feel his hands, previously cradling your back, slide around to your shoulders, shaking them to stop you from making eye-contact with James. Shaking them unsuccessfully. So with desperation and exasperation, he asked, “Hey, can you look at me?” 

While rolling your eyes dramatically, your face fell to look at Sirius with a smirk smeared across it. “What?”

“I’m taking you home. Come on.” Despite the demand in Sirius’ tone and the shift of his body in order to help yours stand up, you sat, removing, looking everywhere but his eyes. 

“What about Marlene?” you asked, body too busy buzzing to feel the tension your jaw held while asking the question or to notice the quizzical glance which adorned Sirius’ face once it hit the hot air. 

“What about her?” He looked back for but a moment, her small wave at his refound attention looking like a skin-colored blob to your drunken vision. But the incomprehensibility of the action did not stop your heart from aching as if it were a stab wound. 

“Is she coming? Coming with us?” You crossed your arms over your chest childishly.

“She’s coming home later.” he said. This time he didn’t look back and you were proud of that, as if you had something to do with it. Hoping you did. But before your pouting lips had time to open and demand for the importance of your say in the matter, Sirius’ focused turned to James as he continued. “Prongs, are you—”

“I’m fine,” he cut off, hand wave and all, the motion still looking like an undistinguished shape of sorts because it wasn’t Sirius standing close to you whose body was moving. “Gotta keep an eye on Evans. And I’ll keep Marlene company.”

A knowing smile crept up on Sirius’ face, making the following chuckle of, “I see,” unnecessary, but he said it anyways before his eyes were back on your face. The vodka cranberries made them look darker than usual and you wanted to drown into them like the girl was doing and really could have if he just let you. If he just let you touch the curve of his cheekbone, grab him by his dog-tag necklaces, run your hands through his hair to dip and slip onto the back of his neck, press your fingertips into the gaps between his, tell him how much you had loved him and for how long and how your eyes filled with tears when watching his fill with adoration over someone else.

Your eyes blinked as you began hearing Sirius’ voice saying your name, snapping you out of your head. “Y/N? Y/N can you hear me?” he asked and you nodded lazily. “Okay, you’re only getting worse. It’s time to go.”

As if your bones were made of honey you slid off of the stool and into Sirius’ arms, plopping against his chest in weightlessness. “You’re so drunk,” he said under his breath, with a smile so small you wouldn’t have seen it if it weren’t for your eyes being level with his mouth and jawline. Once both of your feet were planted—or, truly, placed—on the ground, Sirius skillfully stepped so he was to the left side of you, wrapping one arm around your waist and the other across your back to your right shoulder. Though it was awkward it kept your bending body upright. From above you heard him say something which sounded like, “Be safe, James,” and you were off but at the pace of molasses dripping from a spoon. He practically had to drag you and your shuffling feet through the bar and to the dimly-lit alley one of its walls helped create. After scanning around in every direction, head resembling some sort of spinning top, Sirius’ head steadied and quickly after you felt as though you were being sucked into a vortex before arriving in your bedroom.

“Sorry if that was rough,” he apologized, yet contradicted himself when pulling you along right after the apparition, leading you to his bed. “I figured that you probably were going to throw up from being drunk, anyways, so might as well risk it if it means you getting to the bed sooner.”

“‘M not puking,” you declared. It should have been proud but it was hazy instead, as if you were exerting energy into walking as opposed to Sirius essentially carrying you while your feet slid against the ground, like a person being pushed along on ice skates.

Sirius chuckled while inching you onto the bed, and in the same way your body fell into his at the bar, it fell into your mattress. You barely felt its springs supporting you as Sirius pulled your heels off of your aching feet. Everything seemed so quiet suddenly, the creaks of a mattress and puffs of Sirius’ exhales no comparison to the roaring of the club, yes. But you expected it had a great deal to do with being so close to him, the loss of noise. When he was close the rest of the world disappeared. 

“Sirius?” you mumbled, cheek falling against your pillowcase lazily to look at him. 

Your question had ceased his movements. Sirius’ hands were holding your shoes, one in each, while looking down at you, asking, “Yeah?” 

“You’re my best friend. Like, best best friend.”

He was smiling in the dim moonlight, and even though your alcohol hadn’t worn off quite enough to pick up on the definition of his features, you knew he looked beautiful, smiling down at you like that. No amount of alcohol could ever take that knowledge away from you. 

“You’re my best friend, too,” he admitted. “Just don’t tell James.” 

And suddenly it was slightly less quiet as you laughed unevenly, slur taking its balance, and head rolling back on the pillow. “You’re so funny,” you said. Sirius was chuckling too, but much more lightly, as you tilted your head back to face him. “But really, you’re my best friend.”

“I know.” He was still smiling. “You just told me.” 

“You’re my best friend. And you make me want things I can’t have.”

There was already so much quiet, but now there was stillness, too, as you watched Sirius’ face freeze into a frown, his body jolt into a halt. Then, in a whisper, “What did you just say?”

Still drunk and unconcerned as thus, you smiled at him cheekily. “I said you’re my best friend.”

“After that,” he said with practiced calm, as if trying to not seethe it between clenched teeth.

“You make me want things I can’t have,” you repeated. Your arm unraveled and reached out towards him, pawing in the direction of his full hands, unsuccessful in reaching them. With a pang your heart realized Sirius had stepped back, avoiding the attempt at contact.

“Like what?”

“Kissing. Holding hands. Sex. Maybe. Wearing those jackets. Leather ones.” 

“With me?” he asked, and you nodded your head into the pillow it rested upon, looking up at him with a fearless smile that only drunkenness could give. “I… shit, Y/N. You’re so drunk.”

“Doesn’t matter,” you replied. “It’s true.”

You watched as Sirius’ hands quiver, drop the shoes against the wooden floor. With a surging movement, aggressive and strong, Sirius walked to the side of your bed as if he was going to touch you—your skin begged for his to slide stop it—but didn’t, full of frustration in the hold-back. “I’m dating Marlene,” he said harshly.

“I know.”

“I’m dating Marlene.” The repetition of the phrase was full of wonderment this time, as if he was in disbelief, or talking to himself. “Fuck it if I haven’t thought about this a million times before, but it doesn’t matter how I feel about you. I’m dating Marlene.”

“I think I love you,” you slurred out, reaching towards him again. Being neglected, again, because he was walking away.

Though his actions were obvious he announced, “I need to go,” as if he was reminding himself of how dangerous this situation was becoming, in the same way wildfires start from single sparks. But you were still smiling, too drunk to realize the gravity of what you had just done but not drunk enough for Sirius’ words to have been forgotten. That he had thought about you before in the same way you had been thinking about him since God knows when, in the context of lips against lips and first dates and holding him by those goddamn dog-tag necklaces and never letting go. So although he was gone swiftly, with the slam of the door punctuating his ascent, you were still smiling, hoping as you fell into a deep sleep that you would remember the conversation when you woke the next morning.

And you did. After an hour of lounging, moving your body side to side and letting the haze of hangover fade slowly, you sat up with a start that contrasted your previous movements starkly, with a loud scream of, “shit.” The night came back in flashes first: the sound of your shoes dropping against the floor, the aftertaste of vodka cranberries, James’ lips sipping beer. But, as your eyes blinked in recollection, those flickers of memories elongated into scenes: the vision of Marlene with Sirius’ tongue down her throat, the struggle it took to take the first steps off of that bar stool and, most begrudgingly, the conversation you had with Sirius when you were too drunk to lie about the things you never would have said while sober. So now, with the nonsensical confidence of drunkenness gone from your body, you were left with the aftermath: crippling guilt and embarrassment. 

What made you feel slightly relieved—able to find breath, at least—was the memory of Sirius’ responses to your wild claims, suggesting he might have revelled in what you had to say. That, combined with the glass of water and pile of folded clothes he left on your nightstand, made you hopeful that he at least wouldn’t be angry with you when you inevitably had to face him for the first time that morning.

Once the glass was empty and your tight dress replaced with a hodgepodge of oversized clothing, you made your way to the kitchen, where you knew from experience Sirius would be sitting across from Marlene, talking over some open yet unread Muggle newspaper softly. So the loudness of the voices was what struck you most potently, making your body lurch uncomfortably and your feet were suddenly stuck in one place. 

“I just don’t understand how you could have ditched me for her,” Marlene spat. Guilt hit your chest squarely, knees buckling at the rawness in her voice.

Sirius huffed exasperatedly, as if he had already answered this doubt, making you wonder how long they had been arguing for. If, considering what Sirius’ comments last night lead you to believe, this was their first fight about you. Especially when Sirius shouted back, “You know she was so drunk she couldn’t stand by herself! So I’m sorry for helping out a friend.”

“What about James? You could have had him bring her home.”

A scuff sounded from Sirius, before stating, “James was just barely behind her,” like it was something obvious. Like it was something true; you knew from experience it wasn’t. 

So, without a beat to pause, Marlene snarled, “That’s bullshit and you know it.”

“Really now?” You could envision the Sirius’ brow cocked entirely, the high arch of it. 

“Yes, because if James was that drunk, you would have brought them both here.”

It was a truth you hadn’t even realized, making you feel dizzy and oblivious at the obviousness of it. But if that truth was Sirius being a good friend or picking you over Marlene, you couldn’t decide (your heart already chosen, however, since you loved Sirius like it was a necessity of life, even though it probably would be what took yours at the end of the day). 

“So,” Marlene continued, but more slowly this time, as if she was scanning Sirius’ face intently for any sign of omission and momentarily forgot the next part of her sentence. “Do you have feelings for Y/N?” 

“Of course not.”

Beyond the words, it was a combination of two things that sucked your heart dry: the speed of the response and the firmness of his voice, as if he wasn’t lying. But he had to be, you knew. You knew it as surely as you knew how Sirius liked his coffee, the shape of his lips while smirking, the way he twisted his rings on his fingers when bored or nervous, because even over Marlene, Sirius would never lie to you. And hadn’t he said just the night before, with shakiness and frustration, that he thought about being with you, too? Suggested, with ambiguity and anger, that dating Marlene may not have ceased his breathlessness whenever you came into view? 

So you did, emerging the hallway with steps that were pounding (but not nearly as ferociously as your heartbeat) and furious (but not nearly as much as you were). While Sirius was in awe, Marlene’s pursed lips suggested she was not surprised to see you, as if you had interrupted many arguments of their past; or perhaps, because you were a topic of them.

But what you said caused her jaw to drop, even if just slightly. “Were you lying then, Sirius?” you asked. “Lying when you told me you thought about dating me before? Lying when you suggested that you had feelings about us still, since you couldn’t voice them?”

Before Sirius could respond, Marlene stood in front of him, forcing you to look at her—you were always subconsciously glancing Sirius’ way—with tensed brows and fisted hands. “What the fuck? How much of that did you hear?” she scowled.

You met her look with your own glare. “Enough.”

“Still, why are you here?”

“Because I live here!” you shouted. “Sorry if I thought I wasn’t allowed in my own house.”

A smile didn’t slip into her features, or even a smirk. She was only angry at the slyness of your comment: “You know what I mean, Y/N. Why are you intruding on our argument?”

“Because it has to do with me. If Sirius lied to me or not. So I’d like to speak with him, if that’s alright.” Before she responded you were moving, trying to get around her frame to look Sirius in the eyes, but Marlene had her hands on your arms before you could be successful, whipping you back into her sight squarely. You looked back into her eyes; it seemed like someone had set them on fire they were so scorchingly hot.

“Stay the hell away from him, you two-faced boyfriend-fucker,” she seethed.

You struggled against her grip, finding words deep within your throat which begged for Sirius’ aid, but never letting them surface. Instead, you matched Marlene’s aggression. “Or what?” you teased. “Are you gonna hit me, or something?”

“Yeah. Right in the jaw.” She was smiling and you gulped.

“Really?” you asked, this time in disbelief instead of cockiness, but Marlene must have missed the undertone of breathlessness in your voice, the slight quiver of it, because suddenly her right hand was moving off of your left arm, elbow bending back, almost like it was going to hit Sirius, hands fisted once more. And you swore you felt the air getting sucked back by her grip, the vortex of it cold against your cheek, and she was going to hit you right beneath it, you were certain, so you squeezed your eyes shut, moving away, but not fast enough, you thought. But maybe fast enough. Because nothing happened.

With as much tenacity as restlessness could hold, you snapped your eyes open, finding that Sirius had somehow wedged half of himself between the two of you without you noticing at all. His hand was open flat against Marlene’s balled up one and it took you little time to notice he had protected you and even less for your heart to flutter at the realization.

You couldn’t see Sirius’ face at the moment, as he looked at a guilty yet still disgruntled Marlene. But were relieved, since, if his tone of voice was anything to come by, his features were so cold it could of chilled you to the bone. “Marlene,” he said, the iciness of it terrifying and Marlene winced. “You need to leave. Now.”

Half-expecting her to stay, stand her ground, at least throw one last backhanded comment your way, you were more than surprised at Marlene’s willingness to listen. Or, maybe, she had just ruined the best love she ever had the privilege of fighting for, and was to downtrodden to do anything other than obliged to Sirius’ orders. Too broken to try and come up with anything that would take you down to her level. The mere thought made you want to apologize to her, but you realized that no matter how many sorry’s you repeated, Sirius had taken your side, so each of them would sound as artificial and boastful as the last. 

She left silently and swiftly. As if she was never there, but the ghost of her lingered in the words you spoke after turning to Sirius once the door was firmly closed. He was further away now, a few feet that felt like an ocean. “I broke her heart,” you whispered, looking down at his hands too afraid to face him in earnest. And it was so quiet, just like always when it was just you and Sirius and the morning light casting a shadow of a tragic love story through kitchen window blinds.

“We both did,” he replied. “Well, really, I didn’t. But I would have, somewhere along the line.” After a pause Sirius exhaled, full of frustration, and you watched as his hands flew up to his hair. Even though you still lacked the courage to look up at his face and verify, you knew where those ringed fingers were, how they tugged at his hair the same way they tugged at your heartstrings. 

You shifted uncomfortably, as if you didn’t know how to exist without looking at Sirius; you didn’t, to be honest. “I’m sorry. That… that should have waited,” you admitted. 

“Fuck. Yeah, it really should have. Shit. I just don’t know what to do next.” His body was shaking in restless indecision, extenuating his words. His words, so quiet and calm for the tension that it was worse to listen to them over the fiery shouts of an argument. They left you positively shuddering.

Maybe it was because you were so cold and hoped the truth would make Sirius so happy he’d touch you, warming whatever skin he chose to make contact with; or, you knew Sirius would coax it out of you in some other way; or, you were just too impatient to wait any longer. 

Or because Sirius didn’t know what to do next. But you did.

Without reluctance, you opened your mouth and said, “Everything I said last night was true, Sirius. I’ve been in love with you for months.” You weren’t quite sure what you were expecting his response to be, but the long silence that followed, uneasy and unnecessary, shocked you into speaking again. “Sirius?”

“Are you going to look at me while talking to me?” he asked so aggressively, you almost didn’t lift your head up, just to spite him. But you did and his face was the mixture of frustration and flabbergasted you suspected to meet, when you finally found the courage to (or, were coerced into looking).

“Sorry, but you’re absolutely terrifying when you’re angry.” You almost smiled, but Sirius didn’t.

One of his hands was in his hair while the other was pressed up against the nape of his neck, where the back of his dog-tag necklaces sat, so they rustled as he rubbed the patch of skin there. “Why didn’t you tell me you love me?”

At the ignorant innocence of the question, paired with his wide eyes of wonderment, you scoffed. “Are you really asking me that?” Other than his nodding head, the rest of his body remained still. “Sirius, you were dating someone else! Why the Hell would I just offer you my feelings to get them shot down? I’m not stupid.”

“But I loved you!”

You exhaled slowly and roughly. “Once again, Sirius, you were dating someone else. Of course I hoped you liked me all that time, but you’re not supposed to have feelings for someone when you’re in a relationship with someone else.”

“I guess so,” he huffed. Now Sirius was the one looking down, avoiding your eyes. “Sorry. Marlene always said I was so obvious about it. I guess I thought you knew.”

“No.” Your breathing was rapid, non existent yet constantly falling short. But it’s unevenness, paired with the unsettled rhythm of Sirius’, was all the sound in the world right then—all in being alone with Sirius, the noiselessness never faded—so you held on to it almost as feverently as you would hold onto him if he let you. Would he ever let you? Would he ever let go of whatever words and thoughts restrained him, take you by the wrists and kiss you deeply?

But then he was sharing them. “Do you think I am a horrible person?” he asked. “I mean, I lead Marlene on all this time, even though I knew I loved you more. I guess I was just hoping one day, you’d give me some reason to really have to get over you. And then I could have loved her like I wanted to. How she deserved.”

“I think,” you began, but it got cut off by Sirius’ looking up and in your eyes once more, his wide and so unceasingly vulnerable your breath was lost for a moment. “I think you could have handled it better. Maybe it was unfair but at least you were trying for something good. At least you recognized that she deserved more than you could give.”

“But I kept dating her anyways. And now, I broke her heart—”

“I broke it,” you corrected, hating how his eyes were still wandering. “You never asked me to come into the kitchen and make some big scene.”

“Well I gave it the thing it broke over.” 

“Then we broke it together, alright?” For a minute, you paused, waiting for a sign of agreement which was never given. “Alright?” He was still silent, his only movement the languid rise and fall of his chest. “Sirius? Sirius?” Nothing. “Sirius, look at me. Please.” 

Your request to meet your eyes was different than his to meet yours, as was the end result: you flickered your eyes up, but his crawled, slowly and assuredly, to yours. They were heavy and looked as though they were on the verge of crying, making you wonder if he was. 

“I really do love you,” he whispered suddenly. “And I don’t want you to think I’m evil. I just really didn’t think you’d ever love me back. Marlene is brilliant, and I did like her, but I just never had that feeling. Like, when I look at you and it’s like, I don’t know, it’s like—”

“Like everything else fades to the background?” you offered, nothing, yet again, how quiet everything was. Stunningly silent. And Sirius was all head-thrown-back laughter and clinks of silver buckles and loud talking, yet, somehow, everything was quiet.

He smiled brighter than the sunlight which poured into your kitchen floor. “Exactly.”

“I don’t think you’re evil,” you said. “I think you just made a mistake. And I know I made one today, too. One I’m not sure if I’ll ever stop feeling badly about.” 

And then Sirius was laughing, as if his smile was something old and dated by now (even if he had been smiling for hours, it was never something old and dated to you), laughing in full, so your lips broke into a smile of their own. “We’re just absolutely hopeless, aren’t we?” he snickered, once calmed down. “Two complete messes.”

“I guess we just match,” you grinned. You weren’t completely sure if you’d ever stop smiling again, wishing you could feel worse about Marlene, but she was part of the fade now. The fade that Sirius put over everything. 

And you thought that silent blur couldn’t get any stronger—after months of loving him from afar, it had developed to impossible lengths—but then Sirius stepped in close, lips still turned upwards, eyes still looking downwards. Looking at you, in your eyes, at your lips. Suddenly, he gulped.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked, and it was so gloriously simple, honest, perfect both due to you wanting to hear it and the breathlessness with which it was delivered, you almost kissed him first since your limbs gave out slightly, causing you to stumble forwards unceremoniously.

“Yes,” you whispered in an understatement. And you almost corrected it, added on to try and show your bubbling enthusiasm, but then his lips were on yours and you discovered that though you were used to the fade, how it made everything but Sirius exist, kissing Sirius Black stole your thoughts themselves, your ability to think. All you could do was move your mouth against his and fall. Into him. Into the fade. Into the feeling. 

So that’s all you did. Clutching onto those godforsaken dog-tag necklaces, you kissed him until your lips were purple and sore and forgot how to do everything except moan into his mouth.

**Author's Note:**

> This was requested by @theseuscamander on Tumblr. Find me there under the same name @madforscamander


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